


amongst the missing stars in half finished constellations

by verbanski



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 14:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1230409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbanski/pseuds/verbanski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you fell from grace and the person you used to count on to catch you is the one person you pushed away</p>
            </blockquote>





	amongst the missing stars in half finished constellations

She finds you two breaths away from dead, from somewhere you’re not even sure of because that’s how messed up you are this time.

You think that this _has_ to be the end, you’ve had too many second chances that by now you’ve surpassed the third and fourth and fifth and you’re just sitting on borrowed time. It’s fine, you deserve to wait here until it’s too hard to open your lungs and contract the last muscle that works to keep your heartbeat steady.

Until it finally becomes easier to let go than it is to hold on.

(you breathe easier when she whispers you’ll be okay)

 

You bide your time in a place where the sun rises and sets like nothing you’ve ever seen before. It’s ethereal in a way that makes you afraid to speak too loudly or act out of turn, for fear that you might upset the perfect balance in the peace here. For the first time in a long time, you feel at ease and you’d rather not ruin a good thing you got going for yourself for once.

They feed you well, probably too well for what you’ve been through the past year or so (and for being a total stranger) but you don’t dare refuse what gets brought to you throughout each day.

They dress you nicely, in linens that are clean and fresh and comfortable. There are loose shirts you can change into each morning with pants that are always just right, cool silk to change into at night.

They heal you, mind, body, and maybe even soul, but that’s been through a lifetime of damage and you don’t expect much from that end. They tend to your wounds that are gaping and yelling, give you medicine for the ones that you weren’t even aware of until you suddenly feel leaps better after each passing day. It’s quiet and no one talks to you, but you take in the sweet air around you and there are plenty of books for you to read and sometimes you just indulge in a chance to do absolutely nothing.

You accept everything without asking because that, too, feels too much like rocking the boat.

(you don’t want to rock the boat)

 

It’s been three weeks since you first arrived, the man standing in front of you is the first person to exchange more than one word with you.

He asks you if you will be true, and you swear you will because she is standing behind him, off to the side, and she looks at you like she wants you to stay. There’s a twinkle in her eye that makes you feel like she would give you the world if you say the right answer.

(you really hope you chose the right thing)

 

She trains you until your body hurts and aches in places you didn’t even know existed.

It’s harder than swimming your way back up to the surface after the boat wreck, more grueling than your harrowing days on the island, and it feels way more hopeless than all the hopeless moments in your life up to this moment combined.

Except you can’t actually be that pitiful – she gathers you each morning and works with you into the night, delivers you back to your room when it’s over. It happens every day like clockwork. You’re sure she wouldn’t waste her time on you if she didn’t feel like it wasn’t a waste.

The thought keeps you going, buried in the back of your mind for when you’re feeling especially down and it has a certain power over you to pick your pain addled body back up again despite the pressure in your chest or how much your limbs feel like pure lead. 

Just when you’re about to break, when that quiet nagging in your head is about to disappear, she smiles at you.

(you feel like you can run to the moon and back easy)

 

You hesitated and she does it for you instead.

It happens in a split second, one where you didn’t even realize she was there, and then it’s done. You don’t know how you feel aside from the relief that washes over you when your blade is dry and hers, out of sight, is wet.

She shuffles you out of the room, up the elevator, back into your room, and leaves you to change into something that doesn’t suffocate you.

When you see her again, it’s two hours later with the night illuminated by neon lights and she’s leaning against a fancy sports car you’ve never seen before, parked in front of the hotel. You’ve never seen her in well worn jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and a perfectly beat up leather jacket with some less than perfectly beaten up sneakers, but you think it suits her.

As you get closer, she smiles, warm and surprisingly normal given what just happened. She wordlessly opens the door for you while you try to put the questions in your head into something coherent. However, she slips her hand into yours when she gets in and you decidedly keep your mouth shut about that particular subject matter.

(you promise to never let her shoulder that weight for you again)

 

She loves like she kills and she kills like she loves – with a frightening sense of purpose.

(you think this is where the end begins)

 

He was a father to two children, a boy and a girl. You read the news article on the third page that illustrates a rather gruesome scene where they go to wake up him up for breakfast, only to find him cold and lost.

It’s the piece that breaks you.

You want to tell her but you’re alone because nowadays the time you spend together is few and far between. It grates you, to be forced apart. This is the way things are though, so you accept this, too.

Just this once, you wish you asked.

(you realize at three in the morning you’re not coming back)

 

You’ve hidden for longer than you thought you would be able to, probably because she doesn’t have the heart to hunt you down like she would someone else. Maybe part of her is hoping you’ll come back on your own, maybe she’s just more preoccupied doing something else for the time being; when you toy with the idea, the latter doesn’t seem too likely after all.

You still matter.

 _She_ still matters.

One day she finds you and your head is running a mile a minute and you start to wonder if this is actually it because you _know_ her and there’s a chance she’ll let you go and there’s a chance she won’t.

But she gets close enough so you can see her eyes, close enough so you know she hurts as bad as you. The understanding knocks the wind out of you, making you stupidly weak like the very first day. You find you can’t breathe anymore – not that it matters much – that was your last breath, anyways.

(you hope you see darkness but you see despair instead)

 

At least you did something right.

You kept your family safe and she no longer has to be the one who grants you your freedom – that’s two somethings right before you go. It’s more than what you’ve managed for the better part of your life.

Good, you think, this way you can finally be happy.

The realization hits you a moment too late, after you open your eyes for a second time and you don’t see darkness but you see her standing stock-still, staring at you. You can hear her voice floating around you, telling you words you were begging for not too long ago and this can’t be real.

(you convince yourself it’s a dream because it hurts too much to think you made her cry)

 

You don’t mean to kiss him and think of her, but you do.

(you lied when she asked you _not anymore?_ and you told her _yes_ )

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Deciding Your Own Fate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2094582) by [MuseOfDance13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuseOfDance13/pseuds/MuseOfDance13)




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